Wait for the brink of the falls to touch the roiling waters at its base,
or the maple to bend its branches to kiss the leaves lying at its feet.
One drop will follow another, and the precipice remain.
New buds will open, and the tree stand tall.
But autumn leaves will crest those falls,
kiss the waters waiting below.
I will breathe the mist hanging motionless.
The moment will end.
My life will continue,
each moment on the cusp.
“Transition” originally appeared at Vita Brevis in October 2018.
Image: The American Falls at Niagara Falls ~ 13 August 2009, 10:26pm